


Wildflowers

by sideoftea (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Romance, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Third Person, Pining, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23089837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sideoftea
Summary: Ashe attends Garreg Mach in order to atone for his past and pursue knighthood. There, he makes fast friends with his fellow classmates. Among them is Sylvain, who, despite leaving a strange first impression, greatly occupies his mind.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	1. Violets and Foxes

**Author's Note:**

> An Ashe/Sylvain slow-burn that closely aligns with the canon plot for Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Mostly told from Ashe's POV with a focus on the Blue Lions. Features several other characters, with potential for secondary pairings. (Not entirely sure how things will play out yet!)
> 
> RATED Teen and Up: violence, injury, death
> 
> WARNING: Spoilers for the game. Particularly the Blue Lions/Azure Moon route.
> 
> ~ Thank you for reading! ~  
> ~ Twitter: @sideoftea ~

In the glow of a late morning sun, a startled lark fluttered through the treetops overhead. The movement added an abrupt layer of sound over the drone of a light, spring breeze rustling through the branches. The pale-green eyes of an aspiring knight caught a glimpse of the bird darting out of view. He smiled, amused, as he appreciated his new surroundings.

It was warmer here, and the air was quite a bit clearer compared to the overcast skies that blanketed Gaspard territory. Of course, the warmth and abundance of greenery was enough to put one in a fantastic mood. Even though Gaspard was not all that far from Garreg Mach, there was a notable difference in climate. The lack of sunlight in his current hometown was quite discouraging to the mind.

The young man also took notice of various types of wildflowers he’d never seen before. Sure, he had studied them in various field guides that reviewed several kinds of flora in Fódlan, but it was much more exciting to witness them in person.

He bent down to observe one flower it particular. It was a rich purple, with an impossibly bright yellow center. The petals were paper thin, and danced easily with the wind.

“It’s a violet,” Ashe noted simply with a large grin.

“Yes. They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?” Lord Lonato chuckled from behind. His hands rested on his hips as he looked down at his adoptive son.

“It’s not a color you see often in nature,” Ashe nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps you should take it with you. I’m positive it would look excellent in your new dormitory!”

“It’s a nice idea, but I shouldn’t. I think the flowers are happier here.”

Lonato hummed in understanding. “You’ve always had a kind heart, Ashe.”

“Thank you, father,” Ashe smiled up at him, feeling said heart warm with flattery. He glanced past Lonato’s shoulder, deciphering the outline of a cathedral-like structure in the distant horizon.

“Look! We’re getting close!”

“I predict we will arrive sometime in the late afternoon. Before dinner if we’re lucky.”

“Sounds like we’ve made good time. You know, this clearing is lovely. May we sit down for a while?”

“I see no harm in taking a brief respite.”

Lonato led the stoic horse that was hauling their baggage away from the road towards a relatively flat patch of grass that neighbored a small pond. Ashe took a carrot from his pocket, rewarding the hard-working animal with a snack and a gentle pat along its nose.

Lonato grunted, lowering himself stiffly to sit on the ground, while the spritely Ashe had no trouble throwing himself onto his back, so he could watch the clouds lazily pass along. Ashe’s ears perked up to the laborious sounds, and watched Lonato with concern.

“Are you alright, father?”

“Right as rain! Just… feeling my age a bit more these days.”

“I still have the salve I picked up in town the other day. The merchant said it helped with aches.”

“It’s nothing serious, truly,” Lonato reassured, placing a gentle hand on Ashe’s knee. His words were convincing enough to persuade Ashe to relax his head back into his hands. His lazy eyes took notice of a cumulous cloud that, in its lumpy way, reminded him of a fox. The faint smell of wildflowers wafted towards his nose. The sensation would have lulled him into a nap if it wasn’t for Lonato’s inquiry catching his attention.

“Do you feel hesitant at all?”

“No,” Ashe answered without missing a beat, “I am beyond ready. It’s long time I worked to make something of myself.”

“Good.”

“I must atone for my past. And, well, I wish to repay you, father. For all the kindness you have shown me and my siblings.”

“Is that so?”

Ashe nodded, sitting up a bit. “I was at my lowest point, and yet, you reached out your hand to me. It’s because of you I have another chance to better my life.”

“In this moment, you remind me of Christophe,” Lonato mused with a benign smile.

“R-really?” Ashe stammered, feeling himself growing red.

“You have a deep connection to a strong set of morals, fantastic ambition, and a work ethic to boot. You’ll make a fine knight one day.”

“Thank you.” The redness now traveled to Ashe’s eyes as he felt them become misty. “I still miss him. Every single day.”

“He was a fine, young man. Believe me when I say that.”

“Of course I agree, but… If I may, I can’t help but wonder, if he made better decisions, would he be here right now, taking this journey with us?”

“Perhaps,” Lonato spoke evenly, biting his tongue.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dwell on the past.”

“It is quite alright, Ashe. But you look forward to the future now, for there is much in store.”

“Yes. That is where my focus should be.”

“It will be a long road ahead. I trust you will conduct yourself well. Be sure to treat your classmates with the upmost respect. If they ask something of you, be sure to do so with great effort and enthusiasm.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This year the Blue Lions will house some of the most prominent noble families in the Kingdom. Both Fraldarius and Gautier’s second son, Galatea’s daughter, and most importantly, the crown prince of Faerghus himself. It is a great honor.”

“I will make you proud. I promise to represent you and House Gaspard well,” Ashe spoke, pumping a fist in determination, to which Lonato gave a stern look. Ashe, in embarrassment, quickly corrected himself, opting to bow instead.

“Much better,” Lonato commented in approval. “I have very high hopes for you Ashe.”

“Of course.” Ashe met Lonato’s eyes with confidence, and his adoptive father, satisfied with the conversation, turned to watch a few more birds flying in the sky towards the monastery. His next question had a different tone compared to the first, bordering on sinister.

“You recall the Knights of Seiros, correct?”

“I know as much as you’ve told me.”

“Promise me to be careful.”

“…Because of what happened to Christophe?”

Lonato nodded and his breath hesitated, as if selecting the next words very carefully. “I have… respect for them. However, many would agree that their decisions are at times… questionable, to put it simply. Archbishop Rhea is a powerful figure. This year you will learn many things under her jurisdiction, but do not lose sight of your own morals.”

Ashe stared at Lonato, trying to find the words but failing.

“Ashe?”

“Yes?”

“Promise me.”

“Oh… Right! Of course…”

“If you are to die. Be sure it is for a just cause.”

“Lonato… er, father, I…”

“My words weigh heavy. But you are a man now. It’s time for you to be conscious of these things.”

Ashe nodded solemnly, wondering if these were the exact words Lonato had spoken to Christophe several years ago on his first day at Garreg Mach. He lackadaisically skipped a rock onto the pond, watching it complete a couple jumps before plunging into the cool water. And the violets, the ones that previously danced in the wind with grace, now looked as if they were shaking with fear.

\- - -

The lovely warmth only grew more prominent as the afternoon forged on. The welcoming light of the sun was doing wonders for the skin of three young nobles who were used to much colder, cloudier skies. Sylvain’s hands stretched up and behind his neck as he let out a relaxing sigh. He made sure it was loud enough for Ingrid and Felix to hear, because, instead of enjoying the nice weather, Ingrid was shoving her face in some itinerary and, perhaps worse, Felix shaded himself with a jacket he held over his head.

This, of course, was Sylvain’s underhanded way of criticizing them, since addressing his concern directly was futile. They, as usual, heard Sylvain and understood his intention, but paid him no mind. They were far too familiar with this game, and did not see the value in participating.

Sylvain, strangely ambitious as he was, could not accept this and he pushed further.

“Whew! It is a beautiful day, isn’t it?!”

“Sure, sure,” Ingrid waved him off.

“It’s a lovely break from the depressing weather back home, wouldn’t you say?” Sylvain elbowed Felix, causing the swordsman to make a noise that was one step away from being a growl.

“It’s hot here.”

“Agreed! It’s the perfect level of warmth.”

“It’s too bright.”

“Good. You could use a little sun. You’re looking a little pale, Felix.”

“I knew I should have traveled alone,” Felix spat, quickening his pace to distance himself from them, making sure to somewhat violently shove past Sylvain in the process. Ingrid groaned in frustration at the quarrel, and gave Sylvain a trademark side-eye.

“Really, Sylvain? We aren’t even there yet, and you are already picking fights.”

“I’m not picking fights! I’m just enjoying the damn weather. As usual, you two need to lighten up.”

“This isn’t a vacation.”

“Says who?”

“Garreg Mach monastery does. And unlike you, I’ve taken the responsibility of reviewing all the information they sent us in these letters.”

“Fine, I’ll humor you. Why don’t you give me the synopsis?”

“Well, for one It’s full of schedules. Each one spans the entire academic calendar.”

“Man, they are serious about planning.”

“There’s also a faculty list outlining their specialties, a comprehensive overview of upcoming seminars, and dress code requirements.”

“What are the requirements?”

“There is some flexibility as students are allowed to accessorize within appropriate guidelines. But all students must adhere to certain regulations of attire. For men, uniform pants, buttoned shirt, and a jacket or vest. For women, a uniform skirt or long dress with a blouse and corset or a tunic.”

“Specific.”

“Also, this is very important, the introduction states every student will be asked to choose at least two areas of expertise and demonstrate a high proficiency in each during the end-of-year exams in order to qualify for graduation.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to focus on?”

“Flying and Lance. No question. What about you?”

“Eh… I’m not sure yet.”

"You aren’t sure?!”

“Well, no. I’m not particularly interested in any of them.”

“Figure it out fast. It’s expected that we greatly hone these skills over the year. That isn’t much time.”

“It’ll be fine. After all, growing up with you, Felix, and his highness, I already have a head start on all of these subjects.”

“Not Reason,” Ingrid debated, but with a smirk that showed she was somewhat appreciative of Sylvain’s comment.

“Pft. I’m hardly cut out to be a mage.”

“Don’t be so quick to denounce it. You’ve always had a talent for mathematics.”

“Huh. I forgot you were capable of encouragement.”

“You’re insufferable,” Ingrid said, her frustrated frown returning.

“Hey, what’s this?” Sylvain questioned energetically, placing a friendly hand on Ingrid’s shoulder while pointing to a paper she was holding with the other.

“Oh! It looks like a list of every student in our house. I actually haven’t looked this over yet.”

The two friends scanned the list of names carefully. It seemed to be sorted from the current year’s most esteemed Blue Lions to the more unknown ones. At the very top there was of course his highness, their house leader and _Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd_ was signed in beautiful script. Directly below, they found Felix’s name and their own names, listed right next to their respective noble houses. Following them was Annette of House Dominic, who had the Royal School of Sorcery listed under her credentials, and Dedue Molinaro, who was enlisted as Dimitri’s retainer, thus his name appeared towards the top.

Under Dedue’s name were names of students who were likely from families that served some of the Kingdom’s noble houses. Each sounded at least vaguely familiar. They came to a pause however when encountering one name in particular.

“Mercedes von Martritz?” Sylvain wondered aloud. “That sounds oddly familiar?”

“If I remember correctly Martritz is… was a noble house from the Empire. If that’s the case then wouldn’t she be in the Black Eagles?”

“Hm. It looks like she also attended the Royal School of Sorcery, and under her hometown it says Fhirdiad.”

"Strange. I admit, I’m very eager to meet her now.”

“I’m curious to see if we recognize any of the commoners in our class.” They unsurprisingly did not, but there was another detail that struck their eye.

“This student here… Ashe Ubert... he lacks a noble surname, yet he is represented by Lord Lonato of House Gaspard?” contemplated Ingrid.

“I do remember my father saying Lord Lonato adopted children a few years ago. Maybe he’s the eldest.”

“Right. He adopted, because his own son…” Sylvain and Ingrid came to a pause, non-verbally agreeing to not open this wound of a conversation.

“I’m excited to see some fresh faces. It gets isolating up in Gautier territory,” Sylvain brightened, quickly changing the subject.

“I concur. It seems like a very solid group. I’m confident we will prove to be the most diligent and tenacious class the Blue Lions have ever seen!”

“And there’s plenty of girls in our class. I hope they’re as pretty as they sound.” Ingrid rolled her eyes, feeling foolish at her expectation for Sylvain to say something meaningful.

“Please behave yourself. I refuse to spend precious time at the academy picking up after your mistakes.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do that.”

“But Sylvain… ugh. Just, just don’t get into trouble!”

“Aw, you care about me. You care about your best friend in the whole wide world, wittle Sylwain!” A merciless elbow dug deep into Sylvain’s gut, prompting a comical, yet pained groan.

“Hrk… Come on, I was just having fun…”

“Next time it will be your face. Then you’ll be so busted up, you’ll never woo any woman ever again.”

“Hey! I can see the monastery. We’re almost there,” Felix called from up ahead.

Sure enough the image of tall walls made of stone and gorgeous spires adorning the top of a cathedral manifested into view. The building seemed to stretch right into the sky, nearly skimming the puffy clouds that hung directly above.

\- - -

The classroom was quite impressive, and was lined with long mahogany tables, quite suitable for large lectures with plenty of space for every student. Candelabras were secured against the polished, brick walls adorned with banners that proudly depicted the symbol of the Blue Lion’s house. Two fireplaces positioned on opposing walls roared with valor, and the sunlight that poured in through tall windows beautifully illuminated the instructor’s platform at the head of the class. Faint dust particles danced around the space, greeting the cautious, anxious, and delighted students that wandered inside.

After a long and tedious wait in the crowded entrance hall, everyone was eventually greeted by the church monks, who delivered each student their room assignment. The students were instructed to bring their few belongings to their dormitory and quickly change into their official uniforms before reporting to their individual house’s introductory hour.

Afterwards would be the first grand feast for the students and their guardians, and following that would be a mandatory assembly in the reception hall led by Archbishop Rhea and her right-hand, a pious man by the name of Seteth. At this point, all parents and guardians would be asked to bid farewell, with most spending the night in previously-arranged lodging around the neighboring town, before returning home the next morning.

And then, classes would begin promptly. There was no time to waste.

The nobles made way to enter the classroom first, as was proper conduct. Ingrid, Felix, and Sylvain, now dressed in appropriate attire, walked with hesitated certainty. They formally, albeit begrudgingly, greeted their parents whom traveled separately and had already arrived.

They were deep in conversation with one another over matters of territory and commerce. On paper, today was very much about the students, but that didn’t stop the various nobles from taking full advantage of the reunion. The insincere politeness in their conversation was enough to make the young nobles sick to their stomach, and greatly confuse the observing commoner students who came from more humble backgrounds.

At the front of the classroom, a refined, yet boisterous young man whirled around to greet familiar faces with great enthusiasm.

“You are here! I’m grateful for your safe arrival, my friends.”

“Many thanks, your highness, as are we for yours,” Ingrid bowed, blushing a bit from Dimitri’s energy.

“Ingrid, please, call me Dimitri. Here, we are simply classmates. Our noble status may as well not even exist!”

“Oh my… I do not mean disrespect, but that may be difficult. You are still our house leader, after all.”

“At least give it a try,” Dimitri patted her shoulder causing her to tense.

“Yes. We will do our best to, uh, honor your wish… your highness,” Sylvain hesitated from behind, acutely aware that their parents were eavesdropping on their conversation. Dimitri let out a defeated sigh.

“I personally won’t have any trouble being informal with you, boar,” Felix growled.

“Ah! You see! Felix here… wait, what did you say?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Erm… I’m grateful we will be attending Garreg Mach together. I’m sure you all remember my good friend, Dedue!”

The stoic man, who was standing off towards the corner of the room, gave a polite bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance again,” he commented evenly, eliciting a different response out of each of the three friends: Sylvain, a cheesy smile, Ingrid, a tense nod, and Felix, a scoff.

Dimitri was desperately thinking of a way to alleviate the awkward interaction, when a bubbly girl with striking red hair and adorably large eyes approached them, leading her demure friend by the hand.

“Hi there! My name is Annette!”

The group of nobles turned towards her abruptly in surprise. Their sudden eye contact caused the young girl’s nerves to fire on all cylinders.

“I mean… Annette Fantine Dominic of House… uh, Dominic!” she mentioned as an afterthought.

Sylvain, ready to do what he did best, quickly turned his charm on in an attempt to ease Annette’s obvious discomfort.

“Sylvain. The pleasure’s mine! I dare say you look positively radiant. I’m sure you will be a wonderful addition to our house.” He topped it off with a wink. Annette blushed and accepted his handshake.

“Ah! Sylvain, uh, Gautier, right? Thank you for your warm welcome.”

“Anything for a pretty girl such as yourself.”

“Uh…”

“And who is this?” Sylvain asked, tilting his head towards the other girl.

“Oh! This is my best friend, Mercedes!”

“Von Martritz,” she added, giggling at the strange exchange unfolding before her. “It’s nice to meet you.” Sylvain almost broke his façade for a moment, as this young woman’s piercing gaze seemed to see right through him.

Ingrid, ears perking up to the mention of the name, stepped forward with hand extended. “Well met, Mercedes. Annette. My name is Ingrid Brandl Galatea. I look forward to working with the both of you throughout the year.”

“And I’m Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, as you probably know. But you only need to remember me as Dimitri.”

“Of course I know you!” Annette gasped, growing pale, “You’re the crown prince of Faerghus!”

“It’s an honor, Dimitri,” Mercedes added. She was met with wide-eyed stares all around, as the group was greatly surprised by the young woman’s sudden casualness. But Dimitri’s smile only grew wider, thankful to finally meet a student who had no trouble upholding his request.

“Felix of House Fraldarius,” the brooding young man muttered at the girls, but not offering a handshake.

“H-hi, there,” Annette stammered again, looking at Felix as if he was a live hornet’s nest she just knocked down from a tree.

“It seems like nearly all the Blue Lions have arrived. And I already suspect this year will be an absolutely exceptional class,” Dimitri stated with great pride.

“Hear, hear!” Mercedes cheered, clapping her hands. Her excitement managed to finally put Annette at ease and prompted a sincere smile from Ingrid who nodded in agreement.

Sylvain, distracted, began scanning the class for other beauties. He definitely took notice of a few, but his eyes couldn’t help but fixate on a more curious sight.

At the edge of the room was Lord Lonato, or at least a man he assumed to be him. He seemed significantly older. It was likely the events of the last several years had aged him greatly. He also withheld an air of dismissiveness, only greeting the other nobles with simple nods and small, polite words.

He was hiding something. Sylvain was sure of it.

But he didn’t ponder the though any further, remembering it was more beneficial to act unassuming, and focus on his charm. It was bad enough to be a noble; it was even worse to be an informed noble.

He caught Lonato talking to someone he couldn’t quite see. Sylvain absent-mindedly moved around to catch a glance, abandoning the previous conversation to Ingrid’s mild shock and chagrin. It was a younger gentleman, perhaps Annette’s age or a bit older. He had the pale features and silver hair which was common for folks from western edge of the Kingdom. 

That must be Ashe. He seemed equal amounts eager and nervous, glancing around the room curiously like a puppy seeing snow for the first time. He was tugging at the blue hood that accessorized his uniform, signifying that he favored the bow, when Lonato firmly ushered him to go make his classmates’ acquaintance without assistance.

Ashe stumbled a bit into the space, causing a couple nearby girls to giggle at his awkward state. There were so many people to meet and leave a good impression with, and it was overwhelming, like a pub’s bartender being requested with the needs of twenty patrons at the same time.

 _Ah, poor guy. He’s probably not used conventions like this. Guess I’ll have to save the day_.

He approached Ashe who, once in proximity, turned quickly, causing his foot to catch Sylvain’s ankle. He sharply inhaled, managing to steady his balance with the help of a forearm Sylvain offered him.

“Woah there! My bad.”

"No, no. I’m at fault! I wasn’t paying attention and moved without a second thought!”

“No harm done,” Sylvain soothed, bringing them back to a normal stance, “I’m Sylvain. Heir to House Gautier. And you are?”

“N-noble…!”

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

“Uh, yes! I recognize your name from the itinerary. I’m Ashe Ubert, here on behalf of Lord Lonato of House Gaspard. It’s a pleasure to make the acquaintance of an esteemed noble. I look forward to working together as classmates. Please don’t hesitate to ask if I ever may be of service to you or your house.”

“Uh… thanks?”

_Yikes. What has Lonato done to him?_

Sylvain turned for a moment. Ingrid threw him a look that said he would be tortured with a lecture later if he didn’t return. Sylvain hummed, and slung his arm around his new companion’s shoulder. Ashe tensed, and before he could even question what was happening, he was being led straight into the mouth of the lion, which in this case, was every noble in his class collected into one small group.

“Come on, buddy. Let me introduce you to some of my friends.”


	2. Headspace

Sylvain. Sylvain. The name tasted like campfire smoke. The kind that tickles your nostrils and settles in the back of your throat.

Ashe wouldn’t dwell on the thought if it wasn’t for the fact that he sat directly behind Sylvain in class. In this position, he was forced to stare at Sylvain’s vibrant, red hair while associating it with some ham-fisted metaphor about fire.

In an attempt to shake it, his eyes wandered around the rest of the classroom, sharing friendly smiles with the ones who glanced back. To his relief, he genuinely liked pretty much all of his classmates. Dimitri and Ingrid, though intimidating, were extremely polite and gracious to him. Felix was coarse, but he was not malicious. He had this unbridled ambition about him, which was strangely inspiring in its own kind of way. Mercedes and Dedue seemed incredibly kind and compassionate. And Annette was a breath of fresh air. He did not expect such a bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl to be a noble, but was not disappointed by it in the slightest.

However, he remained distrustful of Sylvain. Even though he was the first to approach him on the first day, a nice gesture in theory, there was something about it that read as insincere. And Ashe was far from being naïve about understanding a person’s true intentions.

Growing up with thieves, he developed a knack for studying a person’s face. If someone wants something from you, but does not care for your well-being, their eyes flicker with a sort of apathy. 

On the other hand, you know the moment you have breached into another’s trust when they begin tilting their head or using less eye contact while talking to you. Both types of intentions are essential to recognize; so you are inconspicuous in your own theft, but do not put yourself at risk to be a victim of theft.

Sylvain, well, he wasn’t either. He was somewhere in between.

“Ashe.”

“Y-yes professor?”

“Can you tell me which kind of oil is best used for properly maintaining iron bows?”

“Unfortunately I’m not sure. Which kind of oil is best?”

“That is unfortunate, for, I just told you.”

“Oh? Oh!” Ashe’s eyes grew wide upon realizing the professor called him out for not paying attention. It was only their second lecture, and they already commanded the room in such an intimidating way.

“The answer is linseed oil. Write that down, please.”

“Of course…”

“I understand weapon maintenance is not the most thrilling subject, but it is very important. Especially since I know bow is one of your focuses.”

“I apologize professor, I won’t be distracted anymore.”

“Good. Surely the back of Sylvain’s head can’t be any more interesting,” Byleth commented with a smirk so tiny no one was entirely sure they even saw it. Ashe, mortified, looked as if he was struck across the face. Byleth, confident their message landed, turned back to their lecture, now discussing how to spot signs of wear in lances.

Sylvain, never missing out on an opportunity to be cheeky, leaned an arm back on his chair and shot Ashe a wink. Ashe groaned, going on the defensive by pushing a hand to his forehead and pretending to be fixated on his notes. He felt a friendly hand touch his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mercedes whispered, “I completely missed that part of the lecture too.”

“Heh. It’s definitely a lot of information to retain.”

“You know, we have a decent amount of time before the afternoon lecture. Would you like to have tea and go over our notes after this?”

“I’d like that a lot actually!”

\- - - 

Mercedes’ room was the definition of elegant. The décor wasn’t gaudy, and she accented the colors in the room perfectly. A variety of cloth was neatly folded on her desk right next to a box of pins and sewing needles. There was a lingering scent of lavender from the dried flowers that unassumingly lined the room. Everything felt purposeful, but not to the point where the organization was stifling.

Ashe glanced back to his host, and couldn’t help but marvel at how the usually clumsy Mercedes managed to pour tea so effortlessly, without spilling a drop.

“This is lovely. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Of course, Ashe. Us commoners have to stick together, right?” Mercedes said, evenly as usual, but with the slightest hint of sarcasm. Ashe couldn’t help but giggle at this break of character.

“Aren’t you of noble birth?”

“Technically, I am. But, it’s complicated. I grew up in the company of commoners, so I empathize with them better.”

“Right, that makes sense.”

“And you? You’re essentially the opposite!” Mercedes observed, sitting down to sip on her cup of sweet-apple blend.

"I guess you could say that. Though I’ve only lived with Lonato for a few years.”

“Oh? I assumed you were adopted much younger. Where were you before?”

“The… the streets. To put it simply.”

“Ashe, I had no idea.” Her cheekbones rose into a pained expression that made her large eyes seem smaller. Ashe took note of this, touched by the sincerity in her reaction. Many of the students who discovered his background expressed their condolences, but mostly for the sake of obligation. But Mercedes looked as if she sought to picture herself in his situation. Perhaps, she already knew what it was like.

“It was a long time ago. Lonato gave me the opportunity for a better life, and for that, I am grateful. Things are much better now.”

"I’m very glad you’re here.”

She gripped his wrist in a way that was so comforting, it almost inspired a tear.

“Thank you.”

“Please, come over for tea anytime. And I mean it. I going to need a lot of help memorizing all these notes!” She laughed.

“Happy to help!” Ashe cheered, feeling his brightness returning. He felt comfortable around Mercedes, and felt his jaw unclench from being relieved of the tension it held.

They spent the next hour or so frivolously reviewing the notes from the past couple lectures. It proved to be quite useful, as their different mindsets complimented each other well. Ashe was very good at recognizing patterns between the subjects, while Mercedes had an affinity for memorizing the key details. They studied until their brains were completely fried.

“Whew. I think I reached my limit for today.”

“That was extremely productive!”

“I agree. I believe a reward is in order,” Mercedes insisted, crossing to a small oak box that sat on her desk. She opened it, revealing a few fluffy pastries, adorned with crystallized sugar, resting on some doilies.

“Here you are, Ashe. I baked them before class this morning!”

“Oh, I couldn’t. That’s far too kind.”

“Please, I can’t eat them all!”

“Your generosity knows no bounds,” Ashe complimented, feeling a sting behind his smile. Mercedes was incredibly giving, and he couldn’t help but feel the guilt from his past. Someone like her would have been an easy target for theft, but she would never deserve it. No one ever did. How many kind, hospitable people like Mercedes had he stolen from?

“Everything alright? Oh no. You aren’t allergic to sweet buns are you?”

“Not at all. Thank you, these are positively delicious.”

“I’m glad you think so! Even if I fail at everything else, I always have baking.”

“That may be so, but you shouldn’t worry so much about failing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re perseverant. While we were studying, you wouldn’t give up on a lesson even if it took you multiple tries.”

“That’s because you have a talent for these things. I’m lucky to have you as a study partner!”

“You caught things I missed as well. Besides, I don’t think talent as anything to do with it. It’s a matter of diligence.”

“Hm. You know, Annie says the same thing. You two have given me something to think about.”

“Annette must be a great friend.”

“Absolutely. And I’m excited to make many more!”

“Like who?”

“You, of course! But also Prince Dimitri, Ingrid, Dedue, everyone!”

“What about Sylvain?” Ashe blurted, almost involuntarily.

“Hm? To be honest I’m not sure how to feel about him. He’s a strange one. Why do you bring him up?”

“No reason,” Ashe quickly deflected.

“Well, at the end of the day we are in this together, and thus, we should all look out for each other. So Sylvain too!”

“Yes... well said.”

\- - -

Mercedes and Ashe entered the Blue Lions classroom, very out of breath. Their conversation made them lose track of time, and they had to run as to not be late. Ashe helped his new friend to their seats, as she looked about ready to topple over.

“Mercedes! Are you okay? Were you running?!” Annette questioned, fanning her friend to keep her from passing out.

“I haven’t moved that fast in a while."

“Oh, Mercie…”

Ashe, having a good-natured laugh at the girls, saw the professor approach him out of the corner of his eye. They crouched down to keep the conversation between them respectfully private.

“How are your studies coming along?”

“Actually very well, professor! Mercedes and I had a chance to study this afternoon.”

“Glad to hear it. And what is this…?” Byleth mouthed, pointing to a diagram Ashe had drawn in his notes of bow types and their different maintenance requirements.

“It’s just a little drawing I made. Visualizing details helps me remember them.”

“I like it. May I borrow it for this lecture to use as an example?”

“Oh! Why, of course!”

“Thank you,” they stated, patting Ashe’s shoulder, “And excellent work.”

They smiled. An actual smile this time. Ashe couldn’t help but blush.

He watched as the professor moved towards the front of the room to begin class. On their way, they passed Sylvain, who was attempting to flirt with yet another young woman who looked downright annoyed with his antics. Byleth responded by briskly snapping their fingers in his face and directing him to his seat.

Before settling, Sylvain smirked at Ashe. Normally this action elicited a mental eye-roll from him, but this time it looked more… somber? He shook the idea, chalking it up to overthinking.

He made a point to not think about Sylvain for the remainder of class.


	3. The First Mock-Battle

The Blue Lions classroom was a brewing storm of emotions.

It was to be expected. After all, today was the day of the very first mock battle of the year. A small assessment that allowed the students to show off their skills and compete against the neighboring houses. It also served as a great starting point the students could draw comparisons from come graduation. From the outside looking in, the stakes were very low. But, nevertheless, it was very stimulating for the students, who had been working tirelessly up until this point.

Rivalries ran rampant as well. Just a few moments ago, Claude and Hilda, from the Golden Deer house, dropped by to ruffle some feathers. Claude was a formidable foe, as he was easily the most mysterious of the leaders. All the Blue Lions could do was anxiously speculate over what he was cooking up. Thankfully, Dimitri was very collected, finding their antics more amusing than anything else, andeeing their own leader act calm in the face of adversity, the Blue Lions felt at ease.

Ashe sat on a table next to Ingrid, efficiently tuning a bow string. She was supposed to be assisting him with the project, but he suggested she should sand down the training lances instead. Ingrid was still pretty steamed about the recent visitors, and Ashe recognized it was probably better for her to do a task that was much less delicate.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Ashe quietly advised, noticing Ingrid aggressively whittling her lance down to the width of a pencil.

“I just don’t trust him. Or Hilda, for that matter.”

“Maybe it was all in good fun.”

“Or it was a threat.”

Ashe sighed, picking up on the sign that Ingrid didn’t not want to discuss hypotheticals right now. It’s true, he didn’t know the nature of Claude and Hilda’s intentions, but he wanted to trust them. Perhaps there would be more chances to associate with the other two houses in the future? He hoped so. To be honest, he didn’t care for the oddly strict borders that existed between the houses. Weren’t all the students aiming for a common goal?

Ashe got up to retrieve a couple more bow strings, and a fresh lance for Ingrid to replace the ravaged one. An abundance of training weapons had been set just outside the Officer’s Academy, settling in the grass like threatening lawn ornaments.

While crossing the yard, he passed by Dedue and Felix in the middle of a spar. Ashe quietly waved at the former, who offered him a tentative, yet polite nod. Despite completely breaking his focus, Dedue remained unphased by Felix’s attacks, which only made the swordsman angrier. Ashe chuckled at the sight, noting this moment could be a good conversation-starter when trying to break the ice with Dedue in the future.

Among the line of students picking out their weapons was Annette, bouncing around merrily as usual. Ashe sauntered up to her, his ears perking up to the sound of a quiet, improvised song.

“Eeny-Meeny-Miney-Axe. Swipe and strike across their backs!” She sang, deciding to grab onto the weapon from her song. Amused by her unique decision-making, Ashe tried to pick up on the song and hum along. He knew he would choose a bow, but which kind? There were mini-bows, longbows, and ones with magical properties. He wasn’t entirely sure which one he favored yet, so he grabbed one at random.

The bow he selected was strange, as the wood was lumpy and gnarled instead of smooth. Ashe guessed the curvature of the weapon would make it much harder to control, but it likely packed more of a punch, as it felt incredibly sturdy in his hands. Taking a couple extra bowstrings, he decided to at least give it a shot, since none of the other students seemed to want it.

Next stop, a new lance for Ingrid. Unfortunately, there was a certain obstacle that would prolong this errand.

Sylvain was leaning against a lance he had wedged into the ground, effectively blocking access to the other lances. His hands were cupped over the protruding end of the lance, and his chin rested on top. He watched, lazy and observant, as the surrounding students practiced with great intensity. Ashe felt his brow crease at the lack of effort he displayed, and had to mentally instruct himself to hide his annoyance the best he could.

“Pardon me, Sylvain. I need to grab a lance for Ingrid.”

“What’s the password?” Sylvain teased.

_ Is everything a game to you? _

“Uhh… please?”

“Nah, that’s not going to cut it. Guess Ingrid’s going to have to live without it.”

“This is important, Sylvain. We don’t have time to mess around. Today is about evaluation.”

“Eh, I’m not really worried what the knights think about me.”

“Aren’t you excited to demonstrate everything you’ve learned?”

Sylvain looked at him like he said something completely out of left field, but his interest in the conversation lingered.

“Everything I learn is for me. Not for someone else’s opinion.” 

The smallest shred of darkness. It only existed for a moment, but Ashe was sure it had been there.

“Right, I know. I don’t learn things for someone else’s opinion either. I learn in order to better myself, and I believe feedback is important.”

“How so?”

“I’m passionate about learning. I take pride being part of our class and I am grateful to be here, and I wish to help in any way I can!”

“To each their own,” Sylvain sighed flippantly and looked up towards the clouds. He was still blocking the lances.

“Sylvain, please! I just need to grab a lance!”

The annoyance seeped through. If this was a game, Sylvain had won.

"Ah, so you are capable of frustration.”

"Oh! I-I didn’t mean to offend!” Ashe stammered, quickly realizing what he did, and began bowing profusely.

“Relax. Other nobles might care about conduct or whatever, but I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Oh, uh, thanks."

“I suppose I’ve patronized you long enough. Here you go, buddy.” Sylvain cooed, tossing him a lance.

“Buddy?”

“We’re friends aren’t we?”

“Sylvain!” Felix barked from a few feet away, impatiently waiting for their promised spar to begin.

“Catch ya later, Ashe.” Sylvain shot him a wink and strode off. Ashe breathed, thanking the Goddess Felix interrupted. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

\- - -

The weather was perfect. A cloudless sky, and somewhat on the cool side, which was a welcome temperature for a day that required high physical activity. 

Upon reaching a large clearing in the forest the lined Garreg Mach, the students began to divide up into their respective houses, all the while hurtling taunts and trash talk at their rivals. This act wasn’t limited to the students, as Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman were practically at each other’s throats, their comments bordering on malicious. In response, Professor Byleth remained calm and neutral, if not a bit bewildered. Although they were intimidating, Ashe was thankful his professor, despite being the youngest, was ironically the most mature.

Soon Captain Jeralt would call everyone’s attention, and the students would put their skills to the test. Before the mock battle began, each house was allowed a quick meeting to go over last-minute strategies and inspirational speeches.

“Alright my friends! It is time!” Dimitri declared, his deep voice resonating in their souls, “As long as we watch out for each other and fight with heart, I am confident we will be victorious.”

The Blue Lions, sans Felix, let out an exuberant cheer.

“I admit, I’m quite nervous, but I’ll do my best to help everyone,” Mercedes confessed.

“There’s nothing to worry about Mercie, we totally got this!” chirped Annette.

“I am excited to see everyone in action,” Ingrid smiled.

“Especially the ladies,” Sylvain added, dodging a swift hand that sought to smack him upside the head.

“For his highness, and for the Blue Lions,” Dedue stated with a rare smile.

“Come on, let’s get on with it already!” Felix whined.

“I couldn’t choose better people to have by my side,” Ashe cheered, locking eyes with Dimitri who seemed equally inspired by him.

“Well said! Professor, what are your thoughts?” Dimitri remarked.

“The Black Eagles will be taking position in the ruins to the north, we need to watch out for mages ambushing us from that angle. The Golden Deer are seizing the central thickets protected by a large fence. It would be wise to not confront them head on. So first and foremost, we should round to the west. If we can take out most of the Golden Deer and their many archers, we will limit the risk of them taking shots at us later when we are distracted.”

"A grand idea! If Ingrid, Dedue, and I take that route with Mercedes lending her support, perhaps we can station you, Felix, Sylvain, and Ashe to hold a defensive line?” Dimitri offered.

“Very good, Dimitri. I believe that will work,” they nodded.

“It’s a plan then. Best of luck everyone. I believe in each and every one of you.”

A bugle blared, and Jeralt’s thunderous voice echoed from a nearby hill instructing everyone to take their initial positions. The second sound of the bugle would mark the start.

Ashe could barely process the event beginning, as it all happened so fast. The professor had to help him out of his stupor as she led him, Felix, Sylvain, and a few other students to some nearby trees so they did not remain in direct line of sight. The young archer attempted to gather his wits as he watched the rest of his class make a beeline to infiltrate the Golden Deer’s defenses.

“We should expect the Black Eagles to send out forces to challenge us. Stand your ground. Even if we drive them back, do not follow them, as it’s an easy bait. We will not pursue them until we reunite with the rest of our team.” Byleth instructed, keeping their voice low.

“I can take them,” Felix grumbled.

“Even if that were true, being too aggressive would leave us exposed and vulnerable.”

"Fine. But I call first blood.”

“I quite like this approach, professor. We can sit back, relax, and enjoy this beautiful day. Let’s just forget about the mock battle,” Sylvain commented, taking care to stretch.

The sharp snap of the professor’s fingers rang in his ears.

“Focus.”

Ashe involuntarily began plucking at his bow string, his hands trembling slightly. His typically bright engagement had transformed into nervous contemplation.

He felt the sensation of something skimming the outside of his hand and gasped violently.

“Oops, sorry Ashe! Didn’t mean to spook ya,” Sylvain reeled back, laughing.

“No, It’s alright! I’ll be honest, I’m a little apprehensive.”

“I noticed. Just making sure you were okay,” Sylvain said, keeping his voice low enough to avoid being chastised again by the professor.

she wanted to feel comforted by his words, but his tone did not match the supposedly good intention.

“Right. Thank you.”

“That’s an interesting bow you picked out.”

“Yes. I’m eager to see what it’s capable of.”

“It doesn’t look the easiest to wield, but someone like you should have no trouble with it.”

_ Why was he being so nice all of a sudden? He was acting so dismissive earlier. _

“Thank you. I really think we can win this!”

“Love the confidence.”

The professor whistled, catching Ashe’s attention. Sure enough, he could see some Black Eagles steadily approaching them.

"You ready?” Sylvain elbowed him.

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Shoot ‘em down. I’ll watch your back.”

Sylvain wouldn’t have been his first choice for a bodyguard, but it would have to do, as he was thankful to have one at all. He positioned himself on a slightly higher elevation, that resided in their hiding spot, with Sylvain close behind. He pulled back the bowstring, waiting for the first of Black Eagles to fall within perfect range. The professor noticed this, giving Ashe a nod of approval.

Unfortunately the brief break of the professor’s attention was enough for Felix to shoot out of the thickets like an angry snake. Ashe sighed, lacking a clear sight line as Felix was now in the way, and did not shoot for fear of friendly fire.

“Felix, get back!” Byleth hissed after him, but it was too late. The Blue Lions watched as Felix ran to collide swords with Petra, who was leading the faction of Black Eagles.

“You better give me a challenge!” Felix warned.

“I will obstacle you greatly! Uh… I mean, I will be a great obstacle!” Petra proclaimed. Despite being in the middle of a battle, Ashe couldn’t help but take a moment to find this charming.

Byleth motioned for the students to move forward, as they had no choice but to back up Felix’s rash decision. They arrived just in time, as Petra managed to knock Felix’s sword away. The swordsman was stunned for a moment, but managed to roll away from Petra’s next attack. Byleth moved in between them, parrying Petra’s offense so Felix had time to wield his sword again.

"Professor! You have much skill!” Petra noted.

"You as well, Petra.”

Their spar continued as Felix, enraged, moved to take on any enemy that looked at him wrong. He managed to subdue a couple students, but in doing so, had moved deep into their enemy line, and now, another Black Eagle was approaching from his backside.

Ashe knew this moment relied on him, as no one else was within range to protect Felix. He pulled the bowstring back instinctively, and the wooden training arrow found its home in the side of the enemy’s leg. The strike caused the student to yelp and crumple forward, knocking them out of the fight.

“Nice work, Ashe! An attractive shot, if I do say so myself.”

“Excuse me?” A now-flustered Ashe turned to face Sylvain, who remained suave as ever.

“You heard me.”

Ashe was almost struck by an arrow himself amid the distraction. The attack whizzed by his face and he quickly turned heel in the direction it came from. The culprit was Bernadetta. Her eyes were squinted shut and a bow visibly shook in her hands.

“Bern. You could have landed the shot if you kept your eyes open,” Dorothea commented, distressed.

“Ah! I surrender!” Bernadetta yelled upon seeing Ashe and Sylvain looking back at her strangely. Her bow fell to the ground as she threw her hands straight up into the air. Dorothea visibly sighed.

“Guess it’s up to me.”

The songstress shot a spark of lightning magic that Ashe barely managed to dodge. Sylvain ran forward to meet her non-threateningly with lance in hand.

“Why, hello there! Come here often?”

“Really? Right now?”

“It’s hard to ignore such effervescent beauty, even on the battlefield.” 

“Defeating you is going to feel really good.”

“I’m sure it will feel good for me too.”

“Ugh.”

Dorothea shot another spark that was swiftly deflected by Sylvain’s lance. Ashe was impressed by his ability despite his lack of preparation earlier that day. He felt strangely inspired, if not a bit irked. But there wasn’t time to dwell on this thought, as two more Black Eagles were approaching their skirmish. He shot a couple volleys at the distant threats, as Sylvain and Dorothea continued to exchange blows.

“A renowned songstress and a capable fighter? What can’t you do?” Sylvain whistled, successfully maintaining the act.

“I know it’s probably hard for you to comprehend, but I’m far from being a one-trick pony.”

“I think that’s fantastic. Independence suits you.”

"We’re here to fight, save the petty compliments for another girl.”

“I guess we just aren’t compatible,” Sylvain mock sighed, his eyebrow flourishing with a sudden idea, “Or… are you worried I’m out of your league?”

That was it. A fire ignited in Dorothea’s eyes, and summoning a newfound energy through her anger, put everything she had into the next thunder spell. It smacked right against Sylvain’s lance, causing it to catapult through the air. Sylvain himself was knocked straight on to his back, and finding the fun in the moment, began to writhe on the ground playfully.

“Oh, woe is me! It seems Dorothea, the great and beautiful, has defeated me. Go on without me, Ashe… It’s up to you now... I… believe… in…” Sylvain sputtered, fake coughing and pretending to die. Dorothea just stared at him with a look of irritation and exhaustion while Ashe laughed nervously.

“Heh… uh, good try Sylvain.”

“How do you all put up with him?”

“We don’t,” Ashe smirked at an amused Dorothea, who shared in polite laughter. Ashe realized this was the first time he openly made a joke at the expense of a noble classmate.

“Hey!” Sylvain whined.

“Here’s to a good fight,” Ashe nodded.

“I would like nothing more,” Dorothea returned.

Their fight was lively and dynamic. Dorothea’s typically unmatched speed for casting magic was being greatly challenged by Ashe’s dexterity. He hopped lightly from foot to foot, avoiding the lightning strikes, seeking openings for him to fire some short-ranged arrows.

“The professor must be… quite… capable. This… this is not easy…” Dorothea mentioned breathlessly.

"Believe me… I’m having trouble… keeping up too…”

Finally an opening. She was running out of juice. Ashe’s keen eyesight picked up on Dorothea’s most-recent spell taking a bit longer to manifest entirely from her palm. So, Ashe instinctively made the decision to bolt straight towards her; a choice that was usually a death sentence, but he was banking on her having time to counterattack. He was right. He struck her side with a training axe he strapped to his side as a backup weapon. Dorothea, winded, fell to her knees.

“Gah. Well done… Ashe.”

“Yes… hah… you too.”

“Never doubted you for a second,” Sylvain dreamily winked from a few feet away.

“Yeah, good thing some of the Blue Lions are capable,” Dorothea grunted at him before giving Ashe an affirmative nod. He accepted it graciously, admittingly thankful to make a connection with a fellow commoner.

The Blue Lions were eventually able to secure the victory for the small battle, but they suffered a greater loss compared to the Black Eagles lesser one. All that remained now of their defensive line was Ashe and a few other students, Professor Byleth, wounded from the duel with Petra, and Felix on the brink of collapse. They trudged forward, inconspicuous as possible, in an attempt to seek out the rest of their team.

\- - -

Ashe could practically see the gears spinning in his professor’s head as they pressed forward. It was likely the Black Eagles still had some of their strongest units in the fight, and there was no way to tell if Dimitri and his crew were able to weaken the Golden Deer.

In the distance, they could hear commotion emanating from the central thickets of the field. Based on the variety of commands, Ashe presumed a three-way clash had begun. The professor must have picked up on this as well, and ushered their humble force to lay low.

“Change of plans. We don’t meet up with the rest of the team.”

“What? Why?” Ashe questioned anxiously.

“There are several students still in the fight. In our state, we would be easily downed in the crossfire. All we can do now is bide our time and hold onto the element of surprise.”

“Like perform a sneak attack? When everyone’s low on energy?”

“Precisely.”

“That’s cowardly,” criticized Felix.

“It’s opportunistic,” Byleth retorted without missing a beat, “Also, might I remind you that you’re the reason we’re in this situation.”

“Whatever.” The comment was dismissive as usual, but Ashe swore he detected a slight quiver in Felix’s voice. Something got to him. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? Nevertheless, the group did not question their professor further. There really wasn’t a better option if they wanted to remain in the fight.

Moving very silently through some thickets, they crouched down to observe the event playing out before them, hoping for a chance at victory.  The match was thrilling for sure, but impossibly disorganized, like a bunch of koi fish in a small pond fighting for a singular piece of bread.

Caspar and Raphael fought in very close quarters. The nimble Caspar managed to dodge Raphael’s heavier swings, and land several hits of his own in succession. Thought it did not seem to have any effect, as Raphael did not even flinch at the attacks.

Annette, unleashing a flurry of wind spells and weird battle cries collided forces with Lysithea, who looked visibly frustrated to be challenged in such a way.

Lorenz and Ferdinand met lances while playing verbal tennis, each claiming their own nobleness would ensure their victory.

Leonie landed a devastating hit on Ingrid while Dedue knocked out a very vulnerable Ignatz, only for Hubert to envelop both in a devastating dark magic blast while laughing maniacally. Hilda, witnessing this, backed away very slowly.

Mercedes, Lindhardt and Marianne all ran out of healing magic, being forced to resort to their offensive weapons of choice as they hopelessly ran into the scuffle swinging hopelessly at the air.

Hanneman and Manuela were playing a sort of tug-of-war, with each managing to land a magical attack, and more importantly an insult, only for the other to reciprocate immediately.

And of course, watching over all of this with a mix of awe, frustration, and hopelessness were the three house leaders. You could almost sense the awkward looks they exchanged with each other despite being far apart on the battlefield.

“This is… rather interesting,” Byleth blinked.

“Should we reposition?” Ashe asked.

“Yes, but move with caution.”

Numbers were slowly and steadily dwindling. And thankfully no one had yet noticed the Blue Lion spies sneaking around the perimeter. The mock arena grew progressively smaller, as the many students who had been knocked out of the fight were now watching the remaining representatives by forming a circle around the action.

Dimitri, running in front of Mercedes and Annette, motioned them to move forward briskly in an attempt to overwhelm the enemy. He looked around desperately, praying his professor’s crew would arrive any minute now. Edelgard picked up on this, and commanded Ferdinand and Hubert to intervene before they had time to set-up. Claude, realizing the other two were distracted, opted to shoot volleys of arrows from behind Lorenz, effectively using the fellow Alliance noble as a human shield. Byleth and their forces ended up within earshot of the Golden Deer, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Go, go, Claude! Has anyone ever told you how good you are with a bow?”

“Uh, Hilda? I appreciate the flattery, but maybe you could lend us a hand?”

“Oh no! I don’t want to get in your way.”

“Speaking of which, Claude, I implore you, stop hiding! I will not tolerate being used as a shield!” Lorenz yelled, doing his best to keep a feisty Caspar at bay.

“Ah, but protecting your leader from harm is the most noble act of all, is it not?”

“Agh! I have many choice words for you after this!”

“It looks like you two have things under control, so I’m just going to go… over there…” Hilda said, taking care to jog away. However, in doing so, she tripped on some uneven ground, and the hand axe she carried flew from her grasp.

“Now!” Byleth commanded their fleet of remaining students, noticing the Golden Deer’s moment of disorganization.

“Finally,” Felix stated, brandishing his sword, only to be struck in the head by a flying axe a second later. “Ow! Damn it!”

“Hey Claude! Look! I got one!”

“That’s marvelous, Hilda.”

Byleth breathed deeply at Felix’s expense, likely biting their tongue, before charging forward. 

The others followed suit, but not before Ashe caught a glimpse of a red-haired comrade watching from the sidelines. He whistled and shot Ashe a thumbs-up. It actually looked quite genuine. Ashe couldn’t help but smile a little bit. Maybe he was warming up to him after all.

_ THUD _

Ashe, recovering from having the wind knocked out of him, looked around in a panic, trying to gather his wits. He was sprawled out in the grass right beside Caspar, who was in a similar situation.

“Ouch. Who knew a small fry like you could hit so hard?” Caspar commented, deliriously rubbing his head. Ashe took care to not point out that Caspar was probably the only other male student at the academy who was shorter than him.

“Yeah, I agree. I feel like I just ran straight into a boulder.”

“What can I say? Gotta keep these babies strong!” Caspar boasted, brandishing his bicep muscles.

_ He’s confident. That’s for sure,  _ Ashe thought.

Before Caspar had the chance to show off his other muscles, Raphael caught up to them.

" You alright little guy? That looked like a doozy!”

“Hey! Don’t call me little!” Caspar spat, before launching at Raphael like a hornet. Though, it was not difficult for the large man to subdue him with a swift, defensive strike.

“Woah… those clouds… are really pretty… huh…?” Caspar whirled around dizzily before hitting the ground for good this time.

“Uh… oops. Don’t know my own strength I guess,” Raphael mentioned, before looking towards a shocked Ashe, “Sorry in advance.”

Raphael was upon him, and Ashe was not ready to suffer the same fate, so he bolted. Years of running through alleyways with stolen goods had proven useful for something, as he managed to create some distance. Unfortunately though, the arena had grown significantly smaller and it was only a matter of time before Ashe would have to fight. He needed a diversion.

He quickly surveyed the area while on the move. The teams at this point seemed even, but very small. Dimitri and Annette had managed to take down Ferdinand and Lindhardt. Edelgard and Hubert easily overwhelmed Lorenz and Marianne. Manuela and Hanneman had finally worn each other out. And most discouragingly, Byleth was no longer in the fight. They managed to subdue Hilda and Lysithea, but Claude had retaliated, quickly winning over the professor in their weakened state.

And now Raphael would knock him out too. He couldn’t think of anyone left on his team who would be able to assist him. His back now against a tree, his chest heaved with burning breath, watching the menacing force of Raphael sprinting towards him. All he could do now was pray for it to be painless.

“HIYA!”

The surprising war cry of an otherwise gentle friend. Mercedes jumped out from behind the tree, smacking Raphael square in the chest with her training sword. He flinched slightly, but the sword snapped on contact. Mercedes simply stared at the hilt that remained in her hand.

"Well. That won’t do.”

“Mercedes!”

“Run, Ashe! Now’s your chance to reunite with Dimi and Annie!”

As much as he didn’t want to leave Mercedes alone and unarmed with Raphael, he knew he had to listen to her for their team to have any chance at winning.

All Ashe could witness before leaving the vicinity was Mercedes holding her fists in front of her face and commanding Raphael to: “Get ready for the fight of your life!”

Ashe sprinted. Although his feet were tired, and his side ached he knew his house had a chance if he caught up in time. Right over a small hilltop were Dimitri and Annette, still fighting with all they had.

It wasn’t too late.

Surrounding the skirmish were many students now, yelling and cheering for their respective houses. Dimitri and Edelgard collided weapons, in perhaps the most thrilling duel of the entire day. Their unmatched skill was undeniable, as neither faltered in the slightest. There was a reason these two were the house leaders.

Annette and Hubert supported the best they could from the distance, but their magic was fizzling. Both mages could be seen visibly panting, ready to collapse from exhaustion at any moment.

A rustle in a nearby thicket. It had to be Claude. Ashe’s ears perked up to the sound and he yelled for Annette.

But, perhaps it was too late.

Annette whirled around to his call. Her face joyful for a moment upon seeing him still in the fight. But in her peripheral she caught sight of the enemy house leader as he shot an arrow with great accuracy. It struck her shoulder, and she fell with a surprised grunt.

“Sorry, Annette! No hard feelings?”

“None at all, it was a good shot... owie...” Annette weakly smiled.

At this point Ashe and Claude were caught in a stand-off. Both with bows raised and strings drawn. There was nothing to do now but wait for the other to leave a small opening. Claude smirked and raised an eyebrow at Ashe, but thankfully it did not cause him to falter. He couldn’t believe he was thinking it, but in this moment he was glad that Sylvain helped him get used to this kind of behavior.

“Well, well. Not bad. Ashe, is it?”

"Yes. It’s a pleasure Claude von Riegan.”

“It’s a shame you aren’t a Golden Deer. We’re quite known for our archery skills and could help you hone your talents.

“I appreciate your words, but I am happy to be part of the Blue Lions.”

“Fair. I bet the Blue Lions are grateful to have you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Well, this was a nice chat, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you out now. After all, my house’s pride is at stake.”

Ashe bit his lower lip, and prayed Claude didn’t see it. He nearly did not speak his next thought aloud, but something about the thrill of the moment caused it to slip out.

“Don’t think it will be so easy.”

Claude grinned wide enough for Ashe to see his teeth. He was amused by the taunt. That was a relief.

And then, Claude’s hand released, just as casually as it had previously tensed. The arrow went flying and Ashe barely had time to duck out of the way. Ashe fired in retaliation, but was off the mark given that he shot from an unnatural position.

“That was close!” Ashe thought aloud, only to be quickly interrupted with the pained cry of his own house leader. Claude hadn’t been aiming for Ashe.

“More of a successful shot if you ask me.”

“Argh! Claude! How did you-?!” Dimitri yelled, reeling backwards from his fight with Edelgard. 

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises. Don’t hold it against me, your royalness.”

“Impressive. I regretfully and honestly admit defeat,” Dimitri held up his hand and turned to his classmate, “Ashe, it’s up to you now.”

“But, your highness!”

“You can still win.”

Dimitri offered an impossibly promising smile. Ashe nodded, knowing he had come too far to surrender now. It looked bleak. But maybe if he could remain evasive, he would outlast them all.

“You will not best me in such an underhanded manner, Claude. You had your fun, but now it ends.” Edelgard called to him.

“Ah, so the princess is now clairvoyant? How interesting.”

“Stop your childish banter now. It isn’t a good look for you.”

“I’ll agree to disagree.”

Claude shot another arrow towards Edelgard, who deflected it with impressive speed. She charged for him with Hubert close behind. For a moment it looked like Claude wouldn’t find a way out of this one, but with a quick salute to the air, he signaled his remaining teammate for the assist.

Raphael, who had unsurprisingly bested Mercedes, had been waiting on the wings, and now barreled towards the remaining Black Eagles. He practically clotheslined Hubert to the ground, causing the sinister character to let out a comedic squeak. Ashe barely managed to avoid the crossfire, but dropped his bow in the process.

“Kaboom! That one was for you Claude!”

“Raph, watch out!”

“Huh?”

Ashe, training sword once again in hand, rapped Raphael in the side hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards. Edelgard, in a strategic play, opted to assist in order to prevent a possible two-on-one situation from happening. She landed a heavy blow on Raphael’s back, causing him to fall. The whoops and cheers from the audience only grew louder as now the mock-battle boiled down to just one representative from each house.

Ashe felt himself shaking with a mix of nerves and adrenaline. It was only him and the two other house leaders. Both were quite intimidating, and seemed far more experienced. But something about the way the Blue Lions encouraged him from the sidelines kept him motivated.

The three circled each other carefully. The tension was building. The hollers from the crowd caused goosebumps to form on the competitors’ skin. Each was carefully crafting a plan of attack. The next move would surely determine the winner.

Claude took the first turn.

In an attempt to throw off Edelgard he stared at Ashe while firing a shot towards her. Edelgard had been expecting this though, dodging the arrow with ease and striking his bow which he now held defensively in front of him. Claude used his bow to parry the attack, effectively breaking the weapon, but allowing him enough time to unsheathe his own axe to stay in the fight. He then took the offensive, attempting a couple trickier maneuvers that Edelgard managed to counter.

Ashe was next.

He knew he had to close the distance as he now lacked range and did not have time to search for his bow. He ran forward, landing a small hit on Edelgard who shoved him off with her elbow. Claude proceeded to take a swing at him, that he managed to dodge. Edelgard then launched at Claude, causing him to stumble backwards.

The audience gasped. But Claude caught his balance in time, and managed to strike the side of Ashe’s shoulder. Ashe inhaled sharply, toughing it out, before thrusting his sword to land on Edelgard’s thigh. She recovered, but her expression warped with pain. The whole ordeal was like a strange game of rock, paper, scissors.

The spot where Claude struck his shoulder began to burn, and Ashe stepped backwards, attempting to create some distance. Unfortunately, he did not notice his bow from earlier sticking a bit of the ground. It snagged his foot and Ashe began to tumble, leaving himself extremely vulnerable. Claude noticed, and for a brief second looked uncharacteristically shocked.

Edelgard noticed too, and at last, took her turn. Seizing the opportunity, she landed a direct hit on the side of Ashe’s head.

For a moment all Ashe could see was white and all he could hear was ringing. Within the state of delirium, he could have sworn he heard Sylvain and Mercedes call out his name.

The audience exploded in a chorus of protests. The Blue Lions became concerned for Ashe, some of them yelling foul, claiming a blow to the head was dangerous and unjust. However, because Edelgard struck with only the hilt of her weapon, Jeralt deemed it to be legal.

Although this commotion was the perfect moment for Claude to strike, as he was an opportunistic fighter, he did not.. He stood frozen, not frustrated, not fearful, but very still. Some claimed in the moment he had been making eye contact with Dimitri. But no one knew for sure, as afterwards the crown prince neither proved nor denied it.

Because of this, Edelgard had ample time to face Claude again. Unfortunately for him, a close proximity duel with her would be too great of a challenge, and eventually Edelgard seized victory for the Black Eagles.

The crowd went wild. The Golden Deer sighed discouragingly, disappointed to have come so close to winning only to lose it at the very end. The Black Eagles rejoiced, complimenting Edelgard and vocalizing the play-by-plays of what they just saw. The Blue Lions, aside from rushing to Ashe in concern, consoled each other and tried to remain proud of what they did accomplish.

Dimitri had scooped up Ashe by the shoulders, lightly tapping his face to bring him back down to Earth. The wind had been knocked out of him, but otherwise he was fine, and eventually came to.

“Ashe! Ashe! Are you alright?” Dimitri asked with concern.

“Y-yes your highness,” Ashe muttered in response, his face reddening with embarrassment over how the crown prince was holding him.

“You fought well. You should be proud!”

“I’d go as far as to say inspirational!” Mercedes chimed in, being met by nods of agreement from her classmates.

“That’s… wow… thank-!” Ashe stammered, clearly overwhelmed by all the praise.

“Hey now, let up on the poor guy. Edelgard smacked him silly just a minute ago and now you’re all crowding him,” Sylvain joked.

“Right. Let’s rejoin the group,” Dimitri agreed, “Ashe, do you need help walking?”

“Oh no! Not at all. Please do not trouble yourself.” His legs argued otherwise, immediately buckling upon standing.

Dedue lent his shoulder for support, mentioning a quick, “Well done,” before helping the young archer along. Ashe sighed, too tired to protest, and hopped along to reunite with the large group.

Jeralt attempted to settle down the rowdy students alongside the professors. It was fruitless, however, since two of them only contributed to the problem.

“Ha! My class has now won two years in a row! What do you have to say to that?” Manuela boasted.

“Yes, the second time you were fortunate your students made up for your lack of leadership,” Hanneman retorted.

“You think it’s too late for us to abandon ship?” Jeralt grunted as an aside to Byleth, whose chest seemed to bounce a little bit. Ashe wondered if they had actually giggled.

As they prepared to return home, the Blue Lions began to go into detail about their individual experiences. Ashe silently listened to the surrounding conversations, feeling the fatigue of the grueling day. 

Ashe lazily tilted his head towards Sylvain, who glanced back. This time, Sylvain did not wink or quirk an eyebrow. He simply smiled. It lingered long enough for Ashe to appreciate the sunlight reflecting brilliantly off his hazel eyes. There was something in the moment Ashe had not associated Sylvain with before; it was a kind of innocence. 

The smile was fleeting, and Sylvain suddenly turned his attention back to the path in front of him as if the entire moment had been a hallucination.


	4. Reflection

The first kill was never easy. Perhaps it was necessary, but now they sat, questioning their morals; the sole source of their comfort. 

“They already decided to bring you harm. You cannot blame yourself for their decisions. We were reacting out of defense.” The professor’s voice sounded muddy when mixed with other thoughts that plagued their minds.

Typically, the professor’s antiquated wisdom was quite welcome, uplifting really, but the students, sitting in a circle around the classroom, exchanging looks with faces that each told their own, horrible story, didn’t feel the words had the same effect. 

Ashe felt his left ear perk up to the soft sound of Annette sniffling beside him. Mercedes attempted to comfort her by resting a hand on her arm, though one look at her expression was enough to feel unconvinced. The warm, motherly gaze was gone, replaced with emptiness. 

“My only regret is that they weren’t more formidable opponents,” Felix offered, but his inability to look anyone in the eyes argued otherwise.

“Professor. This gets easier, right? This must get easier.” Dimitri asked with a kind of desperation most had not witnessed before. Byleth hesitated and simply stared at him with empathetic breath, which was enough to confirm Dimitri’s fears. 

Ashe, who had his eyes fixed to the stone floor, looked up briefly to meet Dedue. He offered him a sad, but brave smile. Dedue returned it for a fleeting moment, then turned his attention back towards his highness. 

“Although it is hard. I want to express how grateful I am to serve all of you. At the very least, I feel safe in the company of the Blue Lions.” Ingrid’s statement was immediately followed by a scoffing noise from Felix’s direction. She turned towards him, fists balled in anger, ready to tell him off when Byleth intervened in a timely manner. 

“Well said, Ingrid. Thank you,” they offered, resting a friendly hand on her shoulder before continuing, “I have already spoken with Seteth. It is alright if you all take the remainder of the day off to recover.”

The room was a mix of slow nods and hesitated breath.

“Before we go, could we stay a while longer and talk about the... experience?”

“Of course, Dimitri.”

A long, but expected moment of silence. The kind where everyone had something to say but felt nervous to be the first. Eventually Ashe, despite the voice of Lonato in his head commanding him to allow the nobility to speak first, could not hold back his thoughts any longer.

“I can’t shake it. There was a moment when I was up against one of the bandits, and during that second, I knew it had to be either him or me. It seemed cruel, but I did what I had to do, almost automatically.”

“Hm,” Byleth offered a reassuring nod.

“Given our lectures about tactics and strategy, I thought a real battle would feel more like that. But really, it was all just a blur.”

Ashe glanced up towards Mercedes this time, whose warmth seemed to return a bit, inspired by his honesty.

“I hope what we did was right, and the Goddess forgives us in that sentiment.”

“I believe she will. And you successfully protected one another. Be proud of that,” Byleth offered. Most of the students nodded gratefully, but the likes Sylvain and Felix remained staring off into the distance.

“Nothing is more valuable than life.” Dimitri’s voice came softly, and almost bitterly. He made a point to try to connect with all of his friends and came to a stop at the two from his childhood.

“Felix.”

A dismissive grunt.

“Sylvain...”

A dry chuckle before exploding into the conversation.

“Of course I wasn’t going to die there. If I’m going to die, I want it to be at the hands of a beautiful woman, not some ugly bandit.”

Silence again, this time from shock. Annette visibly grimaced. Ingrid finally snapped.

“What the hell is the matter with you?!”

“Wh-”

“That’s so inappropriate! Can’t you see how this is affecting everyone? How could you make such an insensitive joke!?”

“Excuse me for trying to lighten the mood? All this gloominess gets tiring, you know.”

“Sylvain, please-” Byleth started.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll leave you all to it.” Sylvain flinched for a moment before smirking and moved out of the classroom. No one made an attempt to stop him. Ingrid turned back to her seat, disgusted. Dimitri shook his head and Felix seemed relatively unphased. Ashe, out of empathetic concern, made an offer that he was afraid no one else would.

“I can check on him since I’ve said my piece.” 

A quick, non-verbal sign of permission from Byleth and Ashe was already out the door. He wasn’t sure why he left so quickly, but it didn’t take an expert to determine that Sylvain was, in fact, not entirely okay. And he had admittingly grown on Ashe over the past moon, quite a lot actually. 

He recalled a conversation he had with him by the training grounds sometime after the first mock-battle. It was one of the few private interactions they’ve had since the academic year began. Although the exchange made some of Sylvain’s underlying issues more apparent, some of it felt genuine.

Sylvain actively sought to help people, albeit in a strange way sometimes. To Ashe, his methods were questionable, but he had strong, well-thought arguments to back up his opinions, and his intentions were just. At the very least, he could potentially learn something from Sylvain’s unique perspective. After all, he did offer a strange kind of wisdom.

_ Seize people’s hearts. _

The advice still rang clear in Ashe’s mind. Sylvain was definitely a good guy, and he did not deserve to feel alone right now. None of them did.

He found him at the edge of the bridge right outside the Officer’s Academy. The ground below was blanketed in a beautiful fog, forewarning the rainy afternoon to come. Ashe walked up carefully as if hunting a rabbit. Sylvain seemed to shut down whenever someone addressed him too directly. Perhaps Sylvain would open up if Ashe casually left the door open instead of forcing him inside?

“The valley is pretty today.”

Soft, simple words. Not requiring context, nor expecting a drop of emotion. Ashe wasn’t certain if Sylvain heard him creep up or if he was actually talking to himself. 

“Wouldn’t you say?” Sylvain tossed out a wink. He must have heard Ashe, or at least predicted someone would follow him. 

“Yes. I actually really like these moments. The calm before the storm... it’s peaceful really.”

“It really has a sad warmth to it, huh?”  
“Sad?”

“Sure. Fog is somber, silent, and vague, but the temperature lets it know it’s okay to be that way.”

“Sylvain…”

“Look, Ashe, if you want to call me an apathetic jerk, go ahead. Let’s get it out of the way.” Ashe jumped back a bit, startled by how quickly Sylvain brought up the subject. 

“Not at all. I offered to check on you.”

“Really, it’s okay. Ingrid, Felix, and his highness think that, and they’ve known me for years, so they must be right.”

“You’re not a bad guy, Sylvain.”

“We all have our demons.” Ashe found the combination of the weighted words and nonchalant delivery to be disturbing. “You’re very kind and you care a lot. Don’t let that be your downfall.”

Sylvain stepped away quickly to ensure the conversation would end then and there. Ashe watched him leave, mouth slightly agape. The air became misty, and soon enough the downpour would begin. Ashe shivered, feeling the discomfort of humidity strangle his neck.


	5. Fog of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: violence, injury, death

Ashe learned that fog while mystifying at a distance, was downright unforgiving once inside. He also learned of the consequence of putting all your trust into another, of the numbing weight that settles on your heart when everything you believed is questioned, and of the trouble breathing when a situation has entirely spun out of your control. 

As much as you want to yell for everyone to stop, you can’t. Minds are made up, and individual hearts believe they are in the right. The fog is a stifling omen, a reminder that the conflict is to be settled here and now. For today, inside the fog, Ashe learned that negotiation is futile. 

He glanced at Byleth, somewhat leading the charge, only a few feet behind Catherine and her battalion of church soldiers. The misty, humid air caused their blue locks to cling desperately to the back of their neck. Their teeth were clenched and their eyes burned with adrenaline. Seeing his stoic professor emit such intensity was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

Dimitri dripped with sweat as he tried to fend off enemy myrmidons who popped out without warning. Dedue looked grave as he charged towards a hidden archer that was threatening Annette. Mercedes was on the verge of tears as she attempted to revive one of Catherine’s fallen soldiers, but failed as her skills were not refined enough. 

This was nothing like the mock-battle, and far more painstaking than the mission from the last moon. This was an internal struggle. Good people with varying viewpoints driven to combat. And although he could not see him, Ashe was certain that somewhere across the opaque field was his adoptive father, waiting for them. 

Lonato lied to him, or at least kept so much hidden, for so many years. None of it made sense. Why would he so willingly send Ashe to Garreg Mach, a place he so actively opposed? Why would he allow Ashe to learn under the rule of Archbishop Rhea, a person he apparently despised? 

He must have known it would come to this, that Ashe and his classmates would be involved. Years of guidance and protection, only for them to cross swords. Of course, this desire for vengeance was because of Christophe, Ashe could empathize with that. But Lonato still had him. He wanted to scream for Lonato to open his eyes, to see that Ashe was breathing, that he loved him, and he could help him find another way.

But there was no replacing Christophe, the great man, and knight that he once was. Ashe stared down into the muddy ground that trapped his boot, as his mind condensed with the thought of his insecurities transforming into a horrible truth.

Lonato attempted to mold Ashe to embody his actual son, but Ashe was not him, and therefore, he was disposable. Ashe wasn’t sure if a light rain had begun, or if he finally allowed some tears to fall. Regardless, he became completely oblivious and vulnerable on the battlefield.

From behind, the sound of heavy footsteps squelching in the soft dirt, followed by a strained, guttural cry. Ashe, after a delay, jerked his head upwards to the incoming threat, half-expecting to meet his demise then and there.

He came face to face with a villager, one that was fighting for the Western Church’s cause. In the man’s raised arm was a simple woodcutter’s axe that was moment’s away from silencing Ashe’s thoughts for good. But he had stopped mid-action, and Ashe could almost see the life suddenly draining from his eyes.

The man choked out a sickening gasp and fell to the ground, twitching, and then became still. Protruding from his back was an iron lance, and the shaky hands of its owner hovered nearby. Sylvain heaved, looking down at the man for a moment, only to jerk his gaze away to prevent himself from collapsing with nausea. 

“Ashe...” he choked out, staring at his classmate with uncharacteristic fear.

“Sylvain, you- you saved me.” Ashe gasped, clutching at the base of his neck. It felt like he had forgotten how to breathe.

“What were you doing? You almost got yourself killed!”

“I don’t know, I…” Ashe trailed off. There were no words. Sylvain’s clouded expression remained fixed on him, and it was suffocating. More suffocating than the fog, more suffocating than the dread of witnessing someone die right in front of him, and more suffocating than learning his entire time with Lonato was fraudulent.

Ashe stumbled forward without a second thought. He grasped a fistful of Sylvain’s sleeve, hoping that somehow, in that fleeting moment, he could fix everything. Maybe by reaching him, Ashe would wake up. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Ashe cried, feeling his knees give out from underneath him.

Sylvain caught him graciously, but let out a noise that slipped past his filter, a reaction to a gash that had formed on Ashe’s side. Ashe peered down at his wound and gritted his teeth in disgust and pain. Had he really been that absent? How could he not recall receiving such an injury? Nevertheless, it was on fire now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Sylvain breathed, as confidently as possible. He hoisted Ashe up onto his back and started to trudge across the field. “We’ve got to get you to Mercedes.”

Ashe glanced back from the spot they had just come from and watched the fog slowly consume the corpse of the man that nearly took his life. 

\- - -

Fortunately, Mercedes was within reach, as she assisted Ingrid and Felix in successfully defeating a horde of enemies. 

“Hey, Mercedes!”

She turned on a dime, not only ready for a command but expecting it. She sprinted over as fast as she could, momentarily freezing with panic upon seeing that the person Sylvain was carrying was Ashe. 

“Oh Goddess, please tell me he’s okay!” 

“He is for now, but he needs attention badly.”

With the help of Felix, Sylvain lowered Ashe cautiously. They laid him on the field, and Sylvain propped his head up with his hands as Mercedes focused on casting. Ingrid stood guard as they worked, brandishing her lance and praying there were no impending threats nearby.

After a few anxious minutes of spell-casting and an anxious Ingrid urging them to hurry, Ashe returned to a state of normalcy. Felix helped Ashe to his feet, and handed him his bow. 

“Can you still fight?”

“Y-yes... I’ll be fine.”

“Glad to see you’re doing okay,” Sylvain remarked, slapping Ashe on the shoulder and pressing onward.

“Please stick with us,” Mercedes stated calmly, giving Ashe’s hand a squeeze before allowing him to run ahead of her. He followed closely behind Sylvain, the red hair once again reminiscent of campfire smoke.

\---

_“...even if all that’s true, dragging the townsfolk into it like this isn’t right!_

_“Enough. If that’s how you feel, prepare yourself! I’m putting an end to this!”_

It wasn’t Lonato anymore. It wasn’t the kind man who offered Ashe, and his siblings, food and a home. It wasn’t the intellectual man who developed Ashe’s love for literature. It was someone hellbent on revenge. Someone who no longer trusted Ashe, and was willing to toss him aside.

Lonato brandished his lance against his own adopted son. Ashe, bow violently shaking in his hands, shook his head desperately. To his left was Catherine, a fire in her eyes, moments away from shoving Ashe out of the way, and finishing the job herself.

“This is your last chance, Ashe. Move or I strike you down!” 

“I’m sorry, Lonato...”

“Ashe! For Goddess’ sake, step back!” Catherine commanded but to no avail. Ashe drew back his bowstring, aiming for Lonato, who was obscured through a mix of fog and teardrops.

Ashe took a shot that Lonato dodged with ease. His steed lurched forward as he prepared to swing his lance directly into Ashe. The archer gasped, freezing with shock, not believing Lonato would actually commit to such action until it was too late. Catherine charged forward, using Thunderbrand to parry the lance in the nick of time. She roughly elbowed Ashe to safety before striking at Lonato herself.

The fight that ensued was valiant and ugly. Time simultaneously moved fast and stood still. Ashe observed everything with a grain of salt as if stuck in a dream, until finally, Catherine landed the winning blow. Her relic cut deep into Lonato’s side, causing him to topple off his horse, and he hit the ground violently, weighed down by his heavy armor and stiff frame. 

Lonato gasped, and with eyes as large as saucers, looked in Ashe’s direction, but not directly at him.

_“That vile woman… Christophe, forgive me…”_

A slight sputter, a groan, and then his spirit spilled out of his lips. Ashe squinted his eyes shut and ran, impulsively, to a faraway clearing. Several people tried to stop him out of concern, but there was no way he could give them any attention. Once the sounds of the battlefield had faded in the distance, he looked up at the sky. Although the fog had started to clear the sky was still cloudy. He stared, emotionless at his surroundings until he felt the sensation of a kind hand on his shoulder.

He barely looked at Mercedes before collapsing into her shawl, dirty and stained from the fight. She held him patiently, as he finally began to weep. 

It was only right then, that Ashe came to a realization. Lonato, in his dying breath, spoke of Christophe, but not of him.


	6. Invitation

It was only recently that Ashe had noticed how faded and warped the wood paneling was in his room. These last few days, everything appeared sickly. He wasn’t sure if things were always like this and he’d been too ignorant to notice, or if the entire world was responding to the recent, grim events. 

Regardless, he was thankful to escape his dormitory. Byleth had given him a few days off to grieve, but the lonely stuffiness of his room was exhausting. Besides, he had to return to his studies or risk being kicked out of the academy. Of course, this was never ideal, but now he truly couldn’t afford it. He had nowhere else to go, and every time he remembered this, it felt as if his heart would cave-in on itself. 

Annette was walking by his side, doing her best to hide the fact that she was analyzing him. She probably noticed how Ashe’s eyes, typically his most striking feature, seemed transparent. Usually, the green color contrasted beautifully against his otherwise pale features, but now the story behind them was cloudy. 

“...and your younger siblings?”

“They were brought to one of the churches in Gaspard. They should be fine there until I’m able to return to them after the school year.”

Annette sighed, likely feeling dejected by Ashe’s tone. The chipper inflections that decorated his voice were currently paved over by a stony monotone. It was dry, matter-of-fact, and devoid of life. An apathetic sound that was frighteningly similar to how Lonato’s voice sounded during the last battle. 

“I bet you’re an amazing big brother!”

“I try.”

Ashe quickened his pace ever-so-slightly to remain ahead of her, causing Annette’s brightness to fade once again. He paused when he reached a door to the library, hands frozen on the door handle as if put under a trance.

“Ashe?”

“...”

“Listen, I know it probably doesn’t mean a lot coming from me,” Annette swallowed before continuing, “But I kind of know what it’s like to lose a father, at least in a sense.”

Ashe snapped out of his stupor for a moment. He recalled her mentioning how she came to the academy as a means to look for her father, but perhaps the story ran deeper. He tilted his head towards her.

“Please, go on.”

“Oh! Um, sure…” Annette reddened, realizing she opened a whole can of worms, “What I’m trying to say is it’s hard because you feel like it’s all your fault. You feel like maybe it would have been different had you met their expectations.”

“I admit, that’s very accurate,” Ashe looked down, tears brimming his eyelids.

“I don’t have all the answers, but I’m certain you are not the reason Lonato rebelled.”

Ashe turned fully around to face her. She was on the verge of tears herself. One hand gripped defensively at her elbow, and her breath grew heavy.

“And… it’s okay to not be okay,” Annette muttered as if verbalizing a thought by accident. Ashe approached her slowly, acknowledging that both of them were trembling, but threw his arms around her in gratitude anyway.

“Thank you, Annette.”

\- - -

Upon concluding the study session and exiting the library with Annette, Ashe felt some glimpses of his old-self return. They crossed down the hall managing some small talk about flowers and music and even slipped in a couple of goofy jokes. With the laughs breaking some tension, the conversation naturally slipped into remarks about their classmates, and Annette informed Ashe about some moments he missed.

“‘But professor, surely you can wield gauntlets and command a horse at the same time!’” Annette spoke in a strange, low register, doing a bad impression of Dimitri.

“Oh boy, did his highness actually say that?” Ashe asked, grateful for the amusement the story provided.

“He did! Despite the professor trying to explain it would be difficult to handle the reins while wearing gauntlets.”

“Not to mention you lack range.”

“Right! So, we went out to the stables for a riding lesson, and his highness insisted on proving to the professor he could effectively use gauntlets while riding a horse.”

Ashe giggled, imagining someone as staunch as Dimitri attempting such a silly feat.

“It went exactly as well as you’d expect. He kept fumbling with the reins, and then trotted over to a target and attempted to punch it. Well, he swung really far, overcorrected, and then fell right off the horse! We all had a really good laugh, even Dedue chuckled a little bit!”

“How did his highness react?!”

“His face was  _ so _ red! Then he actually laughed along with us, and it was really nice, you know, to see him feel so comfortable in his mistake.”

“That’s actually kind of inspiring. If I was the crown prince of Faerghus, I would be afraid of any sort of error!”

“Agreed. But, he shook it off and mentioned something about learning his lesson. Then I turned over to Felix, who was gloomy as usual, and I asked if he thought it was funny and he said, ‘oh look, the boar is acting idiotic again, what’s so funny about that?’”

Another bad impression. Ashe shook his head, almost relieved that nothing had changed too dramatically in his absence. 

“I wish Felix could have more fun. I respect his work ethic, but he’s always so somber.”

“I found out that if you get him on the right topic, he opens up.”

“How did you discover this?”

“I saw him at the training grounds yesterday, and I had a question about swordplay, so I asked him because he’s practically an expert. And, get this, he didn’t sound annoyed! He even demonstrated a technique for me, and when he handed my sword back, he smiled a little bit and he actually looked kind of handsome…” Annette’s gushing came to a screeching halt upon realizing she said too much.

“Annette? Do you-”

“Ah! Please don’t tell anyone!” Annette blurted, entirely mortified. 

Ashe chuckled good-naturedly in response, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Well it’s all out on the table now,” Annette sighed, calming down a bit. “What about you, Ashe? Anyone catch your eye lately?”

“Oh? No, no. Not at all.”

“Oh come on, not even a little bit?”

He left her in anticipated silence as they crossed through the courtyard on their way to the dining hall. It was a clear day, and many students were out enjoying the sunshine over their lunch break. Ashe absent-mindedly glanced over to one corner and saw Sylvain, flirting with a couple of girls who were eating up everything he was saying. 

The spectacle was actually quite infuriating. Everyone else had been taking things seriously, coping with grief in whatever way they knew how. But there was Sylvain, acting like nothing even happened. Nothing was wrong in his world. As long as he got to indulge in his indecency, there was no reason to be upset. Did he even care?

Sylvain saw him for a moment and offered a small wave, but Ashe did not return it. His brow furrowed, and he faced forward, suddenly serious.

“No, Annette. I’m not interested in anyone.”

_ \- - - _

Alone again, Ashe firmly locked himself in his room and hit the books. The pain Lonato caused still numbed him, but he would not, could not, allow himself to give up. He sighed to relax and focus and settled on reviewing an archery lesson first, hoping the familiarity of the subject would help him ease back into his studies.

A couple of paragraphs into his textbook, there was a rap on the door. Ashe listened for a second, wondering if he had imagined it. The sound had been incredibly soft as if the visitor had hesitated on knocking at all. Another, more confident knock followed.

“Hello?” Ashe called.

“H-hey! There he is!” A voice boomed from the other side of the door.

“Sylvain?”

“Good guess. Want to grab dinner with us?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Ashe stated, thankful the door successfully hid his disgust.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’re having a boy’s night. Let’s hit the town, maybe meet some girls. What do you say?”

“Who is we?”

“You, me, Felix, his highness…”

“They agreed to this?”

“Well, I haven’t asked them yet, but I’m sure they’ll say yes if you go!”

“I’m studying,” Ashe responded evenly, breathing through his teeth.

“You’ve been studying all day. Let’s go have some fun!”

“Sorry, but no. Now please, I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Alright, suit yourself.”

Ashe did not return to his studies immediately, distracted by the sound of footsteps leaving. Ashe felt somewhat guilty and then frustrated for feeling guilty. He waited for it to become silent, then cautiously approached his door. He hesitated before cracking it open, part of him hoping that, for whatever reason, Sylvain was still standing there, waiting for him.

There was nothing outside but a humid, summer breeze, and a couple leaves skidding across the empty, cobblestone pathway.


	7. Spar

_ Stay vigilant Ashe, you must do better than that.  _

His pale, freckled hand traversed around an arrow that had lodged itself into a wooden target. He felt discontent with the off-center shot and scrutinized over details of how he could improve his form. He found his mark, lifted the training bow in his arms to try again, only to yelp in pain as an arrow fell pathetically from the string. 

He grasped at his side, the harsh wound he previously received from the battle with the Western Church ignited with pain again. The training bow was abruptly thrown to the ground in a collection of disgust and frustration.

Ashe was pushing himself too hard as of late. He had to. Regardless of the frequent praise he received from Dimitri, Mercedes, or anyone else, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was currently the weakest of the Blue Lions.

After all, he was competing with the incredible strength and stamina showcased by Dedue, Ingrid, and the crown prince himself. It was practically impossible to land a shot on Felix. Annette was incredibly talented at magic, and Mercedes’ healing capabilities were irreplaceable on the battlefield. Even Sylvain, as much as he hated to admit it, was incredibly well-rounded, seemingly good at anything he tried. 

Sure, his classmates would pride him on his skill with a bow, but he knew it only did so much. His allies almost always had to back him up to take down an enemy. He wasn’t particularly good with melee weapons, mediocre with magic, and flying scared the living daylights out of him.

And now here he was, training the one thing he was supposedly good at, and he couldn’t even land a direct hit on a standing target.

He always felt so certain this was his calling. Nothing inspired him more than the pursuit of knighthood. To be virtuous. To be inspiring. To fight for justice and be a beacon of hope and compassion for the less fortunate. It would be his way of making the world, so filled with corruption and arrogance, a little easier to live in.

He did not resent the idea of rulers and appointed leaders but knew his kingdom was in desperate need of kind, capable ones. He had faith that his fellow classmates, at least the ones of noble birth, could be those people, and he could one day serve under their allegiance. 

Imagine someone like him, going down in history as one of the king’s best men, after coming from a life of misery and theft. Maybe it was ridiculous, but if he could one day be like the knights in his stories, then one day it would all be worth it.

But now, he remained very still, face flushed with doubt. What if he wasn’t cut out for this? Lonato always told him he had the freedom to accomplish whatever he put in his mind too. At the time, being much younger, the thought motivated Ashe.

But now, he couldn’t help but reflect on a couple of moons ago, during that dreaded mission. Lonato had lied about, or at least never mentioned his participation in the Western Church’s revolt. Who’s to say he wasn’t lying about Ashe’s ability too?

His mind turned darker, remembering Christophe’s face, bright and certain, filled with wholesome laughter. He was Ashe’s biggest role-model for nearly his entire childhood. He was strong, with good morals, and had everything it took to be a one-of-a-kind knight. And yet, his end was anything but befitting of those qualities. Even if Ashe somehow reached Christophe’s level, how could he be certain his future would be the one he dreamed?

The worst part is Christophe was possibly the only person who would have known exactly what to say to him in these moments. Even here, surrounded by diligent, hardworking students with their own burdens, he felt alone.

Tears did not fall this time. But his mind remained cloudy. He knew each day presented new challenges, for this was a reality he always discussed with his younger siblings. But this was beginning to feel insurmountable.

His breath grew heavy, masking the sound of light, yet confident footsteps approaching from behind. A hand fell to Ashe’s shoulder. He yelped, and stumbled onto his left side, scrambling his attention up to the potential threat. The cheesy smile confirmed it was not an assassin, but something far worse.

“Hey! Relax! Didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Hello Sylvain,” Ashe grunted, attempting to regain composure.

“You feeling okay? You seemed deep in thought.”

“I was just meditating.”

“Ohh! Was it about a girl?”

“No! Unlike you, I give my attention to more important matters.”

“Ouch. Where is this hostility coming from?”

“I’m just stating an observation. You must be honest enough to admit you talk about women more than anything else.”

“What can I say? I’m enjoying my life the best I can while I’m still here.”

“Sure, but, isn’t there something else you want to achieve? An aspiration? Something more virtuous?”

“Pft. Don’t get me started on virtue again.” The redhead’s eyes broke away from Ashe’s for a moment, seeming to stare into the distance.

“Really, is there something so wrong with virtue?” Ashe felt the heat rise in his voice. For once, he was ready for a fight.

“We talked about this. I just think that trait is a little self-centered.”

“Oh? And chasing after several women for your own pleasure isn’t?”

“Sure. Good point,” Sylvain chuckled dryly.

“Acting the way you do, never taking responsibility for your actions, it hurts people, Sylvain! It’s like you don’t care about anyone or anything that’s happening! You’re just an inconsiderate philanderer!”

“There it is,” he spoke in a manner that made Ashe think he wanted to continue the conversation, but for whatever reason, decided to not at the last moment. Ashe observed this break in character and mentally kicked himself. He meant his words, sure, but he knew there was a better way to address it. 

“...I apologize. That was a bit harsh.”

“You don’t need to apologize for speaking your mind.”

“But, I feel like I hurt your feelings.”

“It’s no matter. Worrying about other people’s feelings is a waste of time. Especially mine.”

“Sylvain...”

“Yes, Ashe?” The insincere, confident smile returned, much to Ashe’s concern. He waited a few seconds before responding, reflecting on how Sylvain saved his life, and how he tried to spend time with him when at his lowest. 

“I do worry about your feelings... because you’re my friend.”

“Ah! Finally won you over, did I?”

“That’s not exactly what I-”

“Alright, buddy! Grab a lance!”

“What?”

“I know it’s a surprise. But I did initially come here to train. And it’s always more productive to have a sparring partner.”

“Oh, I don’t think I would be much use in that department.”

“Sure you will! His highness mentioned your lance technique had great potential.”

“His highness said that?”

“Yep. And I want to put it to the test.”

Ashe nearly fell backward from being caught off-guard by the staff Sylvain tossed to him. He clutched the training weapon close to his chest with sweaty fingers and glanced up just in time to see Sylvain raise an eyebrow.

“Well? Let’s get started oh great and virtuous knight, otherwise known as Ashe!”

“Heh, just Ashe is fine.”

“Show me your ready position.”

“Oh! Yes. There we are.” Ashe moved somewhat uncomfortably into a fairly strong stance with his chest forward and knees slightly bent. Sylvain surveyed him, playing up a schtick as if he was an overly-astute professor.

“Hm. Ah yes. Your form is solid. But you’re a tad off-balance.”

“Off-balance?”  Sylvain demonstrated by putting his weight onto Ashe’s left arm, causing it to topple with ease.

“You see that, Master Ashe? You must keep more tension in your arms. A deft hand is useful when wielding a bow, but if you’re too flimsy with a lance, an enemy will have no trouble knocking it straight from your grasp!”

Ashe couldn’t help but snort a bit, “You sound like professor Hanneman.”

“I’ve been practicing my impressions,” Sylvain winked. Ashe shook his head with a sigh, quickly regaining his focus.

“Would you mind showing me how to improve my stance?”

Sylvain nodded, gingerly placing a hand on Ashe’s elbow. “It helps to bend your arm a bit more. You want to be ready to absorb the shock of an enemy’s melee attack, so you don’t leave yourself open.”

“Like this?”

“Heh. You’re a quick learner.”

“Th-thanks,” Ashe stammered involuntarily as he caught Sylvain’s gaze. He had an expression that Ashe had recognized to be fairly common: he seemed amused, but also not entirely there.

“Now, while you hold tension in your arms, you want to ease the tension in your shoulders. That is where your mobility comes from,” Sylvain continued, resting a hand on Ashe’s upper-back as a means to capitalize on his point.

“Of course,” Ashe breathed.

“The other thing I noticed was your lower back is very curved. Make sure to stand tall and proud. This will help you with leverage.” Sylvain’s forearm supplied pressure onto said area, making the end result look like a strange hug from behind.

Ashe felt a shiver run through his body as he suddenly became aware of the sensation of Sylvain’s weighted breath against the back of his neck. Sylvain’s hold was firm, yet warm and protective. It was strange, yet alluring. Ashe’s mind flashed with the sudden desire to remain in this moment. He wanted to sink back further and embrace the point of contact with Sylvain’s chest, to place Sylvain’s arm around his waist. But he managed to shake the thoughts as quickly as they had surfaced. His body coughed defensively as he broke free, whipping himself around to face Sylvain head-on.

“Yes! I see what you mean now!”

“Uh, good!”

“...”

“Sorry if I-”

“No issue whatsoever! I really appreciate your help. I didn’t realize you knew so much about battling with lances.”

“Believe me. Growing up with Ingrid, I had no choice but to learn.”

“Right. I suppose that would be true,” Ashe turned his head downward slightly, smiling with just the corners of his mouth.

“So... do you still want to spar?”

Ashe perked up a bit, finding a new appreciation for Sylvain’s work ethic, or at least, what existed of it. He nodded determinedly, finding an adjusted stance based on his classmate’s pointers.

Sylvain met the invitation with a wholesome chuckle. Unlike the kind of laughs he made when trying to win someone over, this one was light and internal. He readied himself, and the fight began.

Ashe was surprisingly hard to land a hit on. The little bugger was small and evasive, darting around like a wary rabbit. Typically, Sylvain was potent with a lance, thanks to his tall, flexible frame. But in this scenario, his greater range of motion gave Ashe ample time to dodge out of the way.

Ashe’s maneuvers would only get him so far, however. Fighting Sylvain was something else. He was remarkably stable, and his personality quirks proved strangely useful in battle. Sylvain would jeer, tease, wink, and do whatever else he could to get into his opponent’s head. Ashe felt himself becoming less thoughtful about his next move, falling victim to his opponent’s attempts to fluster him.

It was a jarring new challenge, as fighting his other classmates felt like a strict test of technique and power. While he managed to land a few small hits, he was quickly running out of steam. This was the moment Sylvain had been waiting for and took full advantage of Ashe’s fatigued state by smacking his lance with a swift horizontal strike.

“Augh-!” Ashe cried out before crumpling backward. He tried to get back up but became tortured by heavy breath. He raised his hand to accept defeat, watching in frustration as sweat and saliva dripped wildly in front of him. Sylvain crouched next to him, hands folded over both knees, not far from collapsing himself.

“You… really got some… fight in ya,” Sylvain panted through a cheesy grin.

“I… guh…” Ashe heaved, putting a raincheck on the conversation until he could catch his breath. Sylvain groaned and stretched his arms behind him in order to alleviate the soreness. Sylvain craned his neck upward. He quietly hummed to himself, as his chest filled with burning air.

Ashe felt the relief of his nausea slipping away, as he tried to soothe an ache in his neck. He glanced at Sylvain, attempting to comment on their match before breaking into a fit of coughs.

“Woah there. Don’t die on me now.”

“I- won’t-” Ashe muttered before being seized by coughs again. Sylvain simply smiled, let out a short breath through his nose, and patted his friend lightly on the back.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Ugh… sorry…”

“You apologize too much.”

“You’re quite tough.”

“But I could hardly land a hit on you!”

“I have a long way to go,” Ashe cast a sigh downward, becoming discouraged.

“It can’t be that far.”

“Maybe for you it isn’t, but it is for me.”

“Huh?”

“You got it easy…”

“Easy? I wouldn’t go far as to say-”

“What I mean is everything seems to come naturally to you, Sylvain. You’re good at everything! You hardly study, yet ace all your exams. You don’t train as diligently as Felix or Ingrid, yet you easily match them in combat. You even have this ability to get people to like you after barely exchanging two sentences with them!”

“Ashe that’s-” Sylvain shook his head, growing annoyed, “Never mind.”

“To be honest, I’m sort of envious of you.”

“Trust me Ashe, there’s nothing about me to be envious about.”

“But-”

“You have something I don’t,” Sylvain confided, chewing on the words before speaking them. It was bitter and uncomfortable but felt necessary. He stared forward at the scuffed, stone tiles that lined the floor of the training ground, prompting Ashe to take notice of this being the first time today Sylvain had spoken to him without making eye contact.

“What’s that?”

“Freedom, Ashe. You can do whatever you want. I mean, I still don’t know why you would choose to be a knight, but at least you came to that decision on your own. When I walk into a room, it’s no secret that I’m a noble with a Crest. Thus, there will always be certain expectations, desires, and grievances people will have about me. But it’s not actually about me. It’s about my  _ role _ .

“I don’t get satisfaction from doing well on assignments, as they won’t be useful to me, because my future is already planned out. I’m not passionate about fighting because more often than not, real battles happen because of pointless conflicts between self-absorbed nobles. And people pretend to like me because they can get something from me, not because they like the real me.”

“…I like the real you.”

“I’m flattered,” Sylvain responded, somewhat dismissively.

“No, really. I admire your strength. If I was in your position, I would’ve given up.”

“I doubt that.” Sylvain’s eyes met Ashe’s once again.

“Well, at least in my position now. You’re older, and much stronger and wiser because of it. I look up to that.”

“I barely have three years on you. Besides, age has nothing to do with ability.”

“Perhaps, but I must improve. I’m not good enough yet. I must catch up to everyone else,” Ashe stated, his brow furrowing with determination. His concentration was very short-lived however, shattered by Sylvain’s familiar, dry laughter.

“Hasn’t anyone ever believed in you?”

Ashe felt the words strike his soul.

“Huh?”

“Hasn’t anyone ever believed in you?” Sylvain repeated, but with more warmth and the slightest hint of concern.

“Lonato did.” Ashe’s voice trembled much to his own annoyance. He had been working so hard to move on, but grief was a lengthy visitor.

“Shoot, is that-?” Sylvain stopped short, feeling his heart drop as he witnessed how devastated Ashe had become.

“And now he’s gone.”

They remained still for a long time. Sylvain searched the high ceiling of the training grounds for the right words, listening to the soft sound of Ashe rubbing his hands together. 

“That may be true. But you’re still here,” Sylvain finally stated.

“So?”

“So? Ashe, you’re you. And that’s something no one can ever take away.”

“…”

“Maybe Lord Lonato wasn’t the best man. Who’s to say, really? But he saw something in you, so he must have done something right.” Ashe took a deep breath, looking upwards towards some unseen, ethereal plane.

“I really needed to hear that,” he cracked a small smile, “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Why are you being so nice to me anyway?”

“You said you looked up to me. I’m trying to be a good role model,” Sylvain stood, extending a hand towards Ashe, “Come on, let’s clean up before dinner.”

“Hm,” Ashe hummed almost inaudibly as he peered up at his friend’s inviting gesture.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh! Nothing. It’s just for a moment you reminded me of someone.”

Sylvain moved to ask for clarification but opted to swallow his words and smile in acceptance. He helped Ashe to his feet, and they walked to the large iron doors.

On their way, they passed by Catherine who was teaching a seminar about sword techniques. She offered a friendly, yet awkward wave. Sylvain met this discreetly while Ashe adverted his eyes. It was likely Catherine looked disappointed, but Ashe didn’t dare look her in the eyes, for it would only cause the grief to come back in full swing. Admittingly, he was far from ready to move on, and even farther from forgiving her, even though he knew none of it was her decision.

Sylvain, observing the situation, quickly led Ashe out of the area by slinging an arm around his shoulder, almost protectively this time. Once they were out of earshot he leaned towards him a bit.

“She means well. I know it’s hard, but maybe you should talk to her.”

“I will when I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Sylvain accepted with some hesitance.

“Thanks again for your help. I learned quite a bit!” Ashe perked up, not ready to slip into the harder conversation.

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Sylvain commented, giggling at himself for using such a corny phrase, “Oh, and one more thing. You know how I asked if anyone has ever believed in you?”

“Let me guess. You’re going to tell me you believe in me?”

“No. Because it’s more important for you to believe in yourself.”

Ashe slowed his pace to a standstill, reflecting on Sylvain’s words once again. How was he, of all people, able to be so profound? Was he even the same person he met on day one?

Sylvain jogged past him, turning around quickly to yell, “See you at dinner!” before turning the corner towards the washrooms. Ashe rubbed his hand at a crease forming in his forehead. He had a lot to process and knew tonight would be a sleepless one. He was already considering the many ways he would apologize to the professor for being mentally absent during tomorrow’s lecture.

He watched Sylvain leave his line of sight, feeling the phantom warmth of an arm holding his lower back.


End file.
